


Muggle Magic

by TiltAndWhirl



Series: Fantastic Drabbles & Where To Find Them... [3]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Female Friendship, Gen, I Was Sick When I Wrote This, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant - Movie 2: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, Post-Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 20:33:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17189918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiltAndWhirl/pseuds/TiltAndWhirl
Summary: A drabble in which Tina isn't well, and is surprisingly helped by an old adversary.





	Muggle Magic

**\- Tina Goldstein -**

 

 

 

"Oh, honey, you don't look so good...maybe you should go back to bed..." Queenie fussed, pressing the back of her hand to my forehead - only for her hand to be dislodged when I shook my head:

"Can't. Got a big case." I muttered, half focusing on remaining upright as I slipped my arms into my coat: "And Newt is coming today."

 

Queenie didn't look happy, but she side-alonged me so I didn't have to Aparate myself nonetheless, and let me lean on her as we walked into the Woolworth building. She even walked me up to my office: much to the surprise of the other Aurors. Queenie rarely ventured up here, never quite comfortable with some of the more grisly crime details she risked hearing from some of the 'louder' Aurors' thoughts...but one look at my face seemed to explain my sister's presence more than words ever could. Despite my attempts to use make-up to cover up the shadows under my eyes, pale skin, and red cheeks, apparently nobody was fooled.

A sign of good Aurors, I was sure, but I couldn't help but be a little disappointed.

My colleagues were _unbearably_ nice when I was ill. All female Aurors got treated a little nicer when we were ill - it was no secret that Director Graves had been raised around strong women, and it had left him with the belief that if a woman was sick enough to seem sick, she was probably on death's door and deserved to have a cup of coffee made for her - whereas he often rolled his eyes at the male Aurors' illnesses...although that was possibly because Auror Costello was known for exaggerating simple things like colds until it sounded like he was at death's door. Between that, and having met the Director's mother and older sister, I completely understood why he thought the way he did - and none of us balked anymore at what we'd originally thought of as differential treatment. Now none of us complained when I, Tipper, Paduraru, or Johnston were given an easier time we were sick. But I did grumble at the fact that I got even _more_ special treatment, because I was allergic to most cold and flu medications.

Just because I had a cold didn't mean I couldn't do my job! It wasn't my fault everyone else assumed that I couldn't!

 

But judging by the look on the Director's face when he walked out of his office for the morning briefing, though, my usual protests that I could do my job just fine were going to be fully ignored: "Goldstein - "

"I'm not as bad as I look, sir, honest!"

Graves sighed, closing his eye and pinching the bridge of his nose: "Seriously?"

"Her sister had to help her to her desk this morning!"

"Shut up, Grimsditch." I snapped: "Keep your rat nose out of my business!"

"Hey, just because I don't wanna get sick - "

"Well then just keep the hell away from me, you - "

"Just because you're not well, Goldstein, doesn't mean I won't -"

There was a loud whistle, making me wince at the high-pitched noise, before I and the rest of the room returned our attention to Graves: "If you two are quite finished, you've all got work to do, and so I'd like to keep this briefing as concise as possible."

 

Assignments were handing out in short order, Graves keeping half an eye on me as I locked my knees to stop myself swaying on my feet - but thankfully nothing else was said about my current state of health. We all returned to our desks without incident, and I focused once more on the illegal duelling ring I was trying to crack...at least, I tried too.

Unfortunately, there was a constant tight sensation in my chest as my blocked nose and sore throat made it hard to breath through my nose or mouth. And a headache that meant that I had to read each paragraph of the various reports four or five times before the words would stop swimming in front of my eyes. And a tired feeling that left me struggling to retain any of the information - by the time I had reached the end of the second witness statement, I had already forgotten the first one: making the awful feeling of wanting to cry even worse. I was trying so hard...but even with my best efforts, I was feeling a bit useless.

 

_Maybe being sick does mean I can't do my job as well as I usually could..._

 

The thoughts were only proved right when I didn't even notice the sharp, _loud_ clacking of expensive heels on the wooden floor behind me, despite how deliberately obvious they were. I was unaware of anyone's presence until someone cleared their throat right behind my chair - something that, in the field, could have been a fatal mistake.

And as if that lapse wasn't mortifying enough, I actually squeaked - _squeaked like a mouse, for Lewis's sake_ \- the sound all the more pathetic for the way it broke in the middle, when I heard a throat clearing and whirled to see Selwyn staring at me with an eyebrow raised in curiosity. I couldn't even greet the woman who had somehow become somewhat of a fixture in New York's Auror Department: popping in and out at random when she felt like it, because I too busy fighting off a dizzy spell to talk until Selwyn was already speaking:

 

"Merlin, Goldstein, I thought Graves was exaggerating when he said you looked rough, but...god, you look like you died yesterday."

I coughed: "Thanks. Well, you look perfect as ever, so why don't you and all the other nice looking women go...go and..."

"Thank you for the hrudging compliment, Goldstein, I won't hold you to it, as it appears you might be slightly delirious. Run out of pepperup?"

Surprised by the genuine concern in the other woman's voice _(or maybe I really was becoming delusional)_ , I didn't respond with another acerbic retort, instead shrugging and lowering my head: "I'm allergic to it. And most of the generic cold and flu cures."

Selwyn frowned...but then nodded, as if having reached a decision in a conversation I wasn't part of: "That's unfortunate. You really don't look to hot, Goldstein, but I'm not going to tell you to go home or give you any advice you don't want or won't take. If you need anything, thought, you just let me know."

"Thanks, Selwyn." I smiled - and actually not having the fake the gratitude in my expression.

Selwyn nodded, before smirking: "Also, the head of the duelling circle is a Muggle-born Wizard called Paul Kelly. You'll have to watch your step around him; he'd got ties with both Wizarding and Muggle criminal organisations, but I'm sure you'll manage to bring him in."

"Wait, how - "

 

Of course, Selwyn was gone before I could ask her how she knew that.

 

_Why does she always do that?!_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Some time later, I woke up with a sharp and sweet smell invading my head, and the all-too-familiar feeling of paperwork pressed against my cheek.

I raised my head and blinked blearily, trying to clear the illness-induced fog in my head enough to focus on what had woken me, and - _more importantly_ \- if anyone had noticed my unplanned nap, but they hadn't. Luckily there was no-one around but a familiar redhead crouching by my chair, looking up at me with a shy smile...and holding a chipped mug that seemed to be the source of the sharp-sweet smell that had woken me. Not that I was concerned about what was in the mug that right now.

Newt was here.

 

_Mercy Lewis, I forgot to meet Newt at the docks like I promised!_

 

"Oh, Newt, I'm so sorry, I meant to come and meet you at the dock - " I teared up, the combination of guilt, tiredness, and just not feeling well suddenly crashing down on me all at once.

I slumped forwards, Newt barely putting the mug aside before catching me so that I could bury my face against the shoulder of his blue coat as he wrapped me in a somewhat awkward hug - though it was a hug nonetheless: "It's okay, Tina. Elizabeth explained everything."

"She did?" I sniffled hopefully: "Wait, how do you know Selwyn?"

"Oh, she's my sister-in-law. Of sorts. Her brother is married to the illegitimate half-sister of my brother's wife." Newt shrugged: "She used to come and spend her summers in the village near Brighton where I grew up."

"Oh." I replied lamely, feeling like there was something I should have been able to put together from that, but not quite being able to grasp it, and completely losing my train of thought as I tried to chase the knowledge down.

Fortunately, Newt was far too sweet to be upset by me being distracted, gaining my attention again by pressing the warm mug into my hands: "Here, inhale this. It will help you feel better."

"What is it?" I asked, inhaling the steam from the pale golden liquid, and feeling the tightness in my face ease slightly, the sweet part soothing me even as the sharp smell worked to clear my head.

"Muggle magic." Newt smiled: "A mixture of honey, lemon juice, ground ginger, and boiling water. You can drink it when it's cool enough - some people don't like the taste, but it will help with both your throat and sinuses. Honey is a wonderful medicine, you see, Muggles have used it as far back as Ancient Egypt as an antiseptic. And citrus fruits are wonderful for your immune system..."

 

I didn't question him - Newt had all kinds of strange and wonderful pieces of knowledge: and right now I was willing to try anything. Instead I muttered a quick cooling spell, and then took a mouthful of the now just warm liquid. The taste _was_ strange, but not bad...and it _did_ feel nice on my sore throat. I downed the whole mug, only to find another steaming mug floating towards me.

 

"Thank you, Dougal." I smiled to where I thought the Demiguise may be, taking the mug and this time taking the time to inhale some more of the fragrant steam: "And thank you, Newt. II already feel a lot better."

"Yes, Elizabeth said you couldn't take Pepperup. It's okay - 'Seus can't either. And you're much less of a baby about it than he is."

 

I laughed at Newt's playful smile, before falling into conversation with him about his brother. Then his family. The Hippogriffs his mother bred. And then the fact his new book was due to be published in America in just a month's time: with Newt visiting to do a press tour to try and boost interest before the release.

As much as I knew I should get back to work _(especially after my impromptu nap)_ I couldn't help but keep asking questions of the Magizoologist - especially since he seemed happy and comfortable answering them. He was even looking at my face - not quite making eye contact, but still, for Newt that was brave, and I didn't want to discourage him by shutting him down to do paperwork. Luckily, I remembered Selwyn's Paul Kelly tip, so at least if pushed I could say I accomplished something...but the one time it seemed like someone might check on my progress, the shadow of Graved looming over my desk, he was hurried along by Selwyn, who sent a wink over my shoulder as she shoved him out into the corridor, lecturing him about the importance of hot meals in winter to distract him from my lack of work today. Because the woman was a saint.

...Sometimes.

Truth be told, I wasn't quite sure when she had I had become...well, not quite friends, but more than acquaintances...maybe it was Newt's _'it-doesn't-matter-if-it's-legal-so-long-as-it's-good'_ attitude rubbing off on me, but I found myself smiling back at the former (occasionally current) criminal and waving as she disappeared.

She might be an arrogant British Pure-blood with a habit of jewel thievery...but she wasn't all bad. I genuinely thought that we could be good friends one day.

 

 

_Well...maybe if the jewel heists stop._


End file.
